The Dragon's Path

said. He was scowling, playing to the dangerous reputation of the Tralgu. Marcus assumed it amused him. “We’re in the right place, sir.”
    “Carry on.”
    Yardem nodded and left. Marcus took another bite of sausage.
    “My cousin,” Rinál said. “King Sephan—”
    “My name’s Marcus Wester.”
    Rinál’s eyes grew wide and he sank back on the cushion.
    “You’ve heard of me,” Marcus said. “So you know that the appeal-to-noble-blood strategy may not be your best choice. Your mother was a minor priestess who got drunk with a monarch’s exiled uncle. That’s your protection. Me? I’ve killed kings.”
    “Kings?”
    “Well, just the one, but you take the point.”
    Rinál tried to speak, swallowed to loosen his throat, and then tried again.
    “What are you going to do?”
    “I’m going to reclaim our property, or as much of it as you have left. I don’t expect it’ll make up the losses, but it’s a beginning.”
    “What are you going to do with me?”
    “You mean if I don’t take you to justice? I’m going to come to an understanding with you.”
    A cry rose up from the beach below them. Dozens of voices raised in alarm. Marcus nodded to the captive, and together they walked out into the light. On the bright water below them, the ship farthest from the shore was afire. A plume of white smoke rose from it, and thin red snake-tongues licked at the mast, visible even from here. Rinál cried out, and as if in answer a roll of sudden black smoke bellied out from the flame.
    “Don’t worry,” Marcus said. “We’re only burning one of them.”
    “I’ll see you dead,” Rinál said, but there was no power in his voice. Marcus put a hand on the man’s shoulder and steered him back into the shade of the tent.
    “If I kill you or if I burn all your ships,” Marcus said, “then by this time next year, there’s just going to be another bunch like yours in the cove. The bank’s investments are just as much at risk. Nothing changes, and I have to come back here and have this same talk with someone else.”
    “You’ve burned her. You burned my ship.”
    “Try to stay with me,” Marcus said, lowering Rinál back to the ground. The pirate put his head in his hands. Marcus took the two steps to his field desk and took out the paper Cithrin had prepared for him. He’d meant to drop it haughtily at the pirate’s feet, but the man seemed so shaken he tucked it into his lap instead.
    “That’s a list of the ships we insure out of Porte Oliva. If I have to find you again, offering yourself to the magistrate is the best thing that could happen.”
    The breeze shifted and the smell of burning pitch filled the tent and spoiled the taste of the sausages. The leather walls chuffed like tiny sails. Rinál opened the papers.
    “If the ship’s not listed here…”
    “Then it’s no business of mine.”
    “I’m not the only ships on these waters,” he said. “If someone else…”
    “You should discourage them.”
    The color was starting to come back to Rinál’s cheeks. The shock had begun to fade and the old righteousness return, but it was temperednow. The voices coming up from the water were brighter now, laughing. Those would be Marcus’s soldiers. A wagon creaked. It was time to move on.
    “You’ll travel with us as far as Cemmis township,” Marcus said. “That’s not too far to walk back from before your people get sick from thirst.”
    “You think you’re such a big man, no one can take you down,” the pirate said. “You think you’re better than me. You’re no different.”
    Marcus leaned against the field desk, looking down at the pirate. In truth, Rinál was a young man. For all his bluster and taking on airs, he was the same sort who tripped drunk men in taprooms and groped women in the street. He was a badly behaved child who, instead of growing to manhood, found a few ships and took his bullying out in the world where it could turn him a profit.
    A dozen replies came to Marcus.
When you’ve watched your family die, say that again
and
Grow up, boy, while you still have the chance
and
Yes, I’m better than you; my ship isn’t burning.
    “We’ll leave soon,” he said. “I have guards posted. Don’t try to go without us.”
    Outside, the little two-masted ship roared in flame. Black smoke billowed from her, carrying sparks and embers up to wheeling birds. Marcus walked down the rise to where the carts were lining up, prepared to head back home. One of his